


Love At First Sight

by owlaholic68



Category: Monster of the Week (Tabletop RPG), Original Work
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Turned Into Vampire, Denial of Feelings, Historical, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Swearing, but you can read this, for something you guys don't even know yet, kind of, so that I don't have to figure out how I'm going to reveal it in the very last session
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:00:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23083618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68
Summary: Jacques Revel is a demon. He is NOT in love. That doesn’t happen with demons, especially not Wrath demons.So why is he having a hard time letting go of this stupid little human he met in his Latin class?
Relationships: James/Jacques, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Love At First Sight

Latin is a blow-off class for Jacques.

He already knows Latin. He knows Russian, French, German, Greek, Japanese, Chinese, Arabic, and Spanish. And English, of course. But Bleston University is fairly small and they only offer a handful of languages. For his Ancient Studies major, he could choose between French, Greek, Latin, or German.

Jacques slinks into Latin class five minutes late. He brushes past the annoyed professor and searches for an available seat. There’s only one seat free, and it’s in the front. Ugh. Now he wishes he had came on time or early so that he could have hid in the back row. He doesn’t want to accidentally make himself seem like a good dedicated student.

He throws his bag down and plops into the seat, putting his feet up on the desk and crossing his arms. Glares at his two neighbors. The one on his right is a short woman who gives him a hearty glare right back. The one on his left is a reedy taller man, pale skin and fair hair. Slim delicate fingers holding a pen and taking notes. He glances at Jacques and gives a smile, eyes twinkling.

This other man gives a slight frown when he sees that Jacques isn’t taking notes. He offers his pen with a questioning look.

Jacques sneers and turns away. He doesn’t need to take notes.

He tunes out the dull drone of the professor, rolling his eyes to the ceiling and wishing classes here didn’t have an attendance policy. That would bite him in the ass if he wasn’t careful.

That other student raises his hand to ask a question. Jacques watches him from the corner of his eye, the gentle lilt of his voice catching his attention.

Jacques finds himself watching the other man’s soft lips as he talks, finds himself staring at the sharp slope of his nose as he wrinkles it adorably in confusion, tapping the end of his pen on that tender graceful mouth.

Wait. What the _fuck_ is Jacques doing right now?

He turns back to the ceiling, aware that his cheeks are burning with an uncharacteristic blush. Why the _hell_ was he noticing those kinds of details? He doesn’t care about that shit. He doesn’t care about anybody. He hates people.

This class is mercifully short. But holy hell, he has this class every morning. And the professor just announced that the first day’s seating chart would continue for the whole semester, which means that Jacques will have to sit next to this stupid enticing human forever.

Fuck.

* * *

It’s worse. It’s so much worse now.

Jacques shoulders his way out of his first classroom and stomps to his next class, Ancient Greek Philosophy.

And he finds the same man there. That guy sits next to Jacques again. That _motherfucker._

Then he has a class in Trade Routes. And that man is in his class too. Jacques tries not to sit by him, but the classes are small and he can’t avoid him.

Finally that class is done and it’s time for lunch. Jacques has a mind to flee to some quiet place and have a nice temper tantrum to relieve his frustration.

“Hi!”

_Fuck._

Jacques turns with a growl. “What. Do. You. Want.”

That man has now escalated to _talking_ to him. He looks eager. Puppy-dog eyes. Pretty eyes, like a doe. Nice green color, like new leaves unfurling on a bright spring day.

“What?” Jacques demands again, ears burning red. “The fuck do you want?”

“I – I just wanted to introduce myself, since we seem to have so many classes together! My name is James. James Jenkins.”

James waits for a response.

Jacques crosses his arms. “Great. I don’t care.” He turns to leave but a hand grabs his elbow.

“Do – do you want to have lunch with me?”

“No.” Jacques shakes his arm loose, ignoring the way it tingles. “Not hungry.”

“Are you – are you an Ancient Studies major too? You must be, otherwise you wouldn’t be – wouldn’t be taking these specialized courses.” James jogs to keep up with Jacques, who has decided his best course of action is walking away. “Wh-what’s your name?”

“Fuck off,” Jacques snarls. “Not in the mood.”

James smiles that damn smile again. Undeterred by Jacques’ roughness. “Are you sure you’re not hungry? I always get a bit grumpy too when I haven’t eaten for a while. And last class was so confusing, I think I have a bit of a headache and I wouldn’t blame you if the professor’s voice did that to you too-”

“Would you leave me the hell alone if I just tell you my name?”

“Sure, for now. You seem to be in a rough mood today.”

“Fine. My name is Jacques Revel. Now leave me alone.”

James lets him walk away. “Bye, Jacques! Have a good lunch!”

He doesn’t reply. Spends a nice lunch hour in the bathrooms of a quiet building, watching a pile of random papers burn. The fire calms him enough to get him through the rest of the day. Gives him enough strength to ignore James’ constant attempts to be friends with him.

Because _of-fucking-course_ James-fucking-Jenkins is in every-fucking-one of his fucking classes.

He is _so_ fucked.

* * *

Correction: he _needs_ to get fucked.

“Of course!” Jacques exclaims in the middle of his Early Roman History class. Draws a few stares and an unimpressed look from the professor.

“Mr. Revel? What wonderful _revel_ ation did you just have? Care to share with the class?”

Jacques blushes because James is giving him an amused look. “Um…” He stands and throws his bag over his shoulder. “I just realized that this class is a waste of my fucking time. If you’ll excuse me…”

He leaves.

He has the _best_ solution to his problem. He just needs to find a target. The _real_ underlying problem causing this stupid infatuation is that he hasn’t gotten laid in a really long time. Business before pleasure. He just needs a roll in the hay and then all this stupid crap will be out of his system.

* * *

Jacques returns to class the next morning feeling hopeful. He had found a business student eager for some experimentation last night. It was successful.

It was not successful. Jacques still gets distracted by the cute way James sticks his tongue out when he’s really concentrating, the way he fidgets with his pen. The way he gives Jacques a sidelong smile.

Jacques tries again that night. Still just as bad the next day.

The next day, Jacques tries a different approach. He picks someone random in his class and riles them up, pokes fun at insecurities until the person snaps and tries to punch Jacques. What follows is an adrenaline-rich fight that is sadly over too soon.

Other students have gathered around the fistfight, cheering or screaming. Someone has gone to find a teacher. Nobody will dare approach.

Correction: one person is stupid enough to come close.

“Jacques, J-Jacques, stop it!” James pushes through the circle of students and wraps his arms around Jacques, pulling him away from his victim who is lying on the cobblestone bloody and battered. “Stop it, s-stop it!”

For some absurd reason, this actually gets Jacques to stop. Nobody’s ever been able to pull him away from a fight, not even his sisters.

James’ hands are warm on his waist. He has tears in his eyes, not yet fallen, and Jacques feels…something. Guilty, perhaps? He lets James take his arm and rush him away from the scene before school authorities arrive.

“Oh my goodness, are you okay? Are you – why were you – Jacques, you really shouldn’t get into fights, the university has a strict policy about that-” James is rattling on a million miles a minute.

“I’m fine.” Jacques pushes him away. But gently, because James doesn’t deserve his roughness. “Just a bad day. Leave me the fuck alone.”

“Are you – are you sure you’re okay?” James touches his shoulder. “J-Jacques, that scared me to see you like that.”

Pushes him away again. He’s way to close to Jacques for comfort. It’s making the blood pound in his ears. “I’m fucking _fine,”_ he snarls. “If it scares you, then leave me the fuck _alone._ I’ve just got a bad temper.”

“You should see someone about that, then. J-Jacques, please, you worry me.” James is giving him the soppiest puppy-dog eyes.

“I don’t care. Leave. Me. Alone.” Jacques pushes past him and stomps down the hallway. James doesn’t follow.

* * *

Wonderful. Even beating someone up didn’t help. Though to be fair, that’s more of Lucy’s coping mechanism than Jacques’.

But it did make James a bit more hesitant to approach Jacques. He’s bothering him less. Talking to him less, smiling less.

Jacques hates that that hurts. It makes his days less interesting, his classes harder to bear. He walks out of another class, tired of James giving him concerned side looks. He gets into another fistfight that week, though this one is discreet and he swears the victim to secrecy.

He tries fucking someone again. A disappointing one-night stand. He kept thinking of James, and it doesn’t help he found someone with the same wavy-floppy dirty blond hair.

He takes out his disappointment and frustration on himself, picturing James in his mind’s eye, picturing those slender hands on Jacques’ body, picturing those lips on his own, conjuring up naughty phrases that would make his weak human lover gasp.

That helps more. It gets him through another few days before he snaps again and burns down the University’s tool shed.

* * *

Jacques is skipping class. It’s not like his Trade Routes professor really cares about attendance as long as Jacques continues acing the exams. He wanders around the courtyards and hallways of the university.

He hears someone crying down the hallway. Pauses and decides to turn a different way until he recognizes the person curled up on a bench with his head in his knees.

James.

Jacques wavers. He takes a step away, then stops. Sighs and heads down the hallway.

“Hey,” he whispers. Touches James’ knee.

James startles and tries to hide his face even further. He’s quietly hyperventilating, shaking and sobbing in the most pathetic way Jacques has ever seen.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Jacques soothes. He has a calming voice when he wants to. “It’s okay, darling, don’t cry, it’s okay…” He digs in his bag and pulls out a wrinkled handkerchief. Cups James’ chin and raises it to wipe at his eyes. Continues quietly talking, soothing nonsense.

“J-Jacques?” James frowns in confusion once he calms a bit. He scrubs his wet cheeks with his sweater sleeve, irritating his already flushed face. “Wh-What are you doing h-here?”

“Skipping class, what the fuck does it look like I’m doing?” Jacques tries to put on an air of nonchalance. He surrenders his handkerchief to James and takes his other hand. Holds it but looks away like he doesn’t really care. “What are _you_ doing? What happened?”

James’ breath stutters. On the edge of hyperventilating again. All of Jacques’ hard work almost wasted.

“No, shh, none of that. Breathe, breathe.” Jacques talks him back down. “You’re such a goody two-shoes, I can’t believe you’re skipping class. Did something happen with a professor or something?”

James nods and holds out a crumpled hunk of paper. Their most recent essay assignment from their Early Roman History class. There is a damning UNSATISFACTORY stamped across the top.

“I – I tried so hard on that – on that essay and – and – and I think the professor hates me, he said it – it was one of the w-worst he’d ever read and – and that I got a lot wrong and – and my writing style was completely unsuited to the course and – and he’s surprised I’m not failing out of my – out of my other Ancient Studies courses and – and maybe I should look at another major-”

Jacques feels an odd fury burn in his chest. Different from his normal anger, more protective. “Shh,” he soothes. He hugs James, who buries his head in Jacques’ shoulder and wraps arms around his waist. “Just skip the rest of the day, I’ll make excuses for you. Just go home and forget all about this nonsense.” He shakes the paper. “You’re easily the best student in class, the only one not a total dipshit. I think that professor is maybe the one who should consider changing careers.”

“O-Okay,” James cries. “I – I’m sorry, J-Jacques, you have to deal with me and I know – I know you h-hate me-”

“No, shut up!” Jacques snaps. “I don’t hate you, shut the fuck up with that bullshit.” He softens his voice. Something about talking to dear sweet James that way feels wrong. “Just relax. Go home and have a nice cup of tea. Go for a walk in the park or some comforting shit. I’ll tell all the professors that you’re sick and you, like, threw up everywhere and it was super gross.”

James giggles. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, I’m a piece of shit. Now go.”

“Thank you anyways, Jacques.” James gathers his things and leaves.

Jacques is forced to go to the rest of his classes that day so that, true to his word, he can tell all the teachers that James had fallen ill.

After class, he has a _nice_ conversation with their Early Roman History professor.

The professor resigns the next day due to a nervous breakdown. All grades previously given are moot, since they can’t seem to find the professor’s grading book anyways.

Jacques _relishes_ watching that grading book burn.

* * *

The University hasn’t found a new teacher for the Roman History class, so they have a free period now in that time slot. That means they have an extra-long lunch.

Jacques still refuses all of James’ offers to eat lunch with him, choosing instead to go to the Library to do research for his latest project for Hell. He’s technically on a sabbatical for this University time, but he still has his own personal projects.

The city has gotten too comfortable nowadays. It needs something to shake it up. Something to make people afraid again. New restrictions on who can set up business on the riverfront has led to his River Monster being a bit less effective.

He needs something that will terrify people. He needs something that will spread fast. Not deadly, because surviving with some awful curse or malady is scarier than facing the abyss of death.

“Hi, Jacques,” James whispers. He had approached without warning.

Jacques slams his notebook shut. Too loud, making the other library patrons glare. “Hello! I thought you were eating lunch!”

“Are – are you okay?” James sits at his table. “What were you working on?”

“A project. An independent project for – for my work. I was trying to brainstorm ideas.”

“Oh?” James looks interested. He puts his hand on his cheek and leans forward. More confident now that he knows Jacques has a soft spot for him. “Could you tell me about it?”

Oh. Hell. _No._ Jacques inwardly laughs at the thought of how that conversation would go. _Oh, by the way, I’m a demon and my hobby is creating abominations that terrorize the city…_ “It’s barely even started, I’m afraid. I’m a bit short of inspiration. So hard to come up with new ideas when everything’s already been done before.”

“I know the feeling. You could always try to adapt something that already exists. Improve upon it and make variations.”

He always knows just what to say. That sparks a bolt of inspiration that strikes Jacques in the chest. He stands and shoves his papers back into his bag. “Of course, of course! What an idea – improving on something old!” He circles the table and gives James an impulsive kiss on the cheek. “You’re _so_ smart. Thanks!”

Perfect. _Perfect_ idea. Jacques already has a creation that, while it worked very well for a while, has unfortunately become a bit lackluster recently. Plenty of room for improvement.

* * *

James is fidgeting in class again.

He is normally the picture-perfect student, completely devoted and attentive. Apparently he takes the best notes, because people always ask to borrow them when they are out sick.

But right now Jacques is watching him fidget. Far more interesting than this shitty lecture. The professor knows the subject but has no clue how to actually teach.

There is an adorable furrow between James’ brow. He’s confused, tapping on something on his notes. Jacques leans over and sees some question marks. Ah – he’s confused about part of the lecture but too nervous to ask a question.

Jacques raises his hand.

“Um, Mister Revel? You have a question?” The professor seems similarly confused. Jacques barely pays attention, let alone ever has a question. He literally lived this time period, he already knows everything.

“Yeah, can you explain that more? Clarify it? That was literally the vaguest fucking way you could have said that.”

“Oh, well, um. Sure, I can dive deeper into that. Just – just do watch your language, Mister Revel, no need for that kind of talk here.”

He shrugs. “Whatever.”

James shoots him a surprised and appreciative look. _Thanks,_ he silently mouths.

Jacques shrugs again and turns away. He wills his cheeks to stop burning.

* * *

Jacques is doing more work in the library. Has his notebook pulled up close to his chest and is writing in Russian just in case.

This caution is because James is sitting across from him poking through some books and literary magazines. He’s particularly anxious today and Jacques hates that he cares.

He’s also blushing for some reason. Keeping his magazine hidden from Jacques.

“What are you reading?” Jacques casually whispers.

“Oh, you know, a magazine…” James tries to hide it.

Jacques is faster. He swipes it and browses the story. _“Carmilla?”_ He reads. “What is this about?”

“A – a vampire.”

“Hm.” Jacques tries not to look too interested. “Mind if I read it?” He could always use more inspiration.

James blushes even more. “S-Sure, I – I suppose.”

Jacques reads. Oh. He gets to the part where he now understands why James was blushing and embarrassed. He hands it back with a muttered comment about how it was interesting, or some shit.

 _Very_ interesting. And just what he needed.

* * *

“Jacques, wh-where do you live? Do – do you live on campus?”

“Nope.”

“I live off-campus too, w-with my mother. Do you live alone or do you – do you have family here?”

“Alone. Family in America.” Jacques flips to the next page. He’s agreed (for some absurd reason) to proofread James’ latest essay. It’s damn good, hardly needs anything to correct. But James is all anxious about it so Jacques had agreed if only to soothe him.

“Oh, that’s kind of – that’s kind of lonely. Do you h-have any pets?”

“No. Do you?” Jacques needs to stop this all right now if James has a cat.

“No, Mother is allergic to cats and dogs, I’m afraid.”

Jacques breathes a silent sigh of relief. He doesn’t know why he’s glad. That would have been a wonderful excuse to break this whole thing off. “Hm.”

“You should come over and meet her. She would love to meet you. You – you could come over for lunch this Saturday. If you wanted to…”

“Hm.” Jacques frowns. _Does_ he want to? “Is it important to you?”

“Yes, it – it would mean a lot to me.”

“Then fine. Sure, whatever.” Jacques blushes and pretends like he’s _really_ concentrating on this essay. “You can come over to my place afterwards for dinner. And we can…study.”

Now it’s James’ time to blush. Jacques is kicking himself. He doesn’t know why he suggested that. He doesn’t know why he phrased it like that, like it was a euphemism for something. Holy shit, he’s the biggest fucking idiot in this city.

“I – I mean, if you want to! If that’s okay!”

James lays a hand on his arm. “it’s fine. I’d love to.”

That arm tingles. Jacques chooses not to pull away.

* * *

“Your mother hates me.”

James turns to him in the small carriage Jacques had hired. He frowns. “No, no, that’s nonsense. That’s ridiculous, Jacques, she – she doesn’t hate you.”

“Yes she does,” Jacques argues. He just had a very tense and uncomfortable lunch with Mrs. Jenkins at their family manor. Stilted small talk about university, books, the weather. Jacques had managed to offend her no less than five times. “She hates my guts. She thinks I’m an awful person.”

“No, she doesn’t,” James protests. “No, J-Jacques, she just hasn’t seen past your rough edges. Give it time. Come again next w-week.”

“No.”

“For me? I would a-appreciate it a lot. Give it another try, J-Jacques, please.”

“Fine.” Jacques crosses his arms and barks out directions to his house. He lets James into his large manor home. Two stories tall, three if you counted the small tower. Mostly empty, cold and unfriendly. Jacques didn’t do much living here.

But he had made an effort for James. Had hired someone to clean the whole place, had ordered a new couch. Contacted the local Chinese restaurant and had paid an exorbitant sum to have hot food delivered. Jacques didn’t know how to cook, nor did he keep any food in his cabinets. He was doing a poor job of pretending to be human.

James admires the décor (what little of it there is). He sits down with Jacques in the kitchen, basking in the setting sun in the breakfast nook windows.

He’s shivering. He’s cold.

Despite his protests, Jacques turns up the radiator. It is _unacceptable_ to him that James be the slightest bit uncomfortable. He’s not sure when that mental switch happened, but now it’s stuck. James needs to be happy, _or else._

They sit together on the couch after dinner with their books and notes. Doing some studying. Jacques keeps getting distracted by how closely James sits. Their hips touching. James is leaning more and more into Jacques’ supernatural warmth.

“J-Jacques?”

Jacques startles. He’d been staring at James, his heart skipping over his effeminately long eyelashes, his smooth skin and steep nose. Fascinated by his delicate lips.

He says _fuck it._

James squeaks when Jacques puts a hand on his cheek and pulls him down for a kiss. He accepts the embrace, though, draping his arms around Jacques’ neck.

This is so right. Correct like they’re meant to be together. Jacques presses closer until he’s in James’ lap, hands on his hips now and slightly below. He requests permission to get closer and receives it, untucking James’ shirt and putting his hands even more intimately.

“J-Jacques…” James sighs into his mouth. Those gorgeous eyelids fluttering. “I – I thought you hated me…”

“Oh sweetheart…” Jacques’ accent mangles the word. “I just wanted to fuck you so badly it drove me _insane…”_

James giggles. He squirms at Jacques’ teeth on his neck, gasps at Jacques’ hand down his trousers. “You sure have – have a way of showing affection, J-Jacques.”

“You have no fucking idea what you’ve been _doing_ to me ever since I first laid eyes upon you,” Jacques growls, eats up his lover’s small noises of pleasure. “Is it my fault that I’ve been uncontrollably obsessed with you since the moment you spoke to me? I couldn’t take it, darling, it drove me up the wall and I tried to get rid of it, I tried so fucking hard and nothing worked, it was just you and only you and nothing else mattered. I would skip every class just to have you in my bed, I would give anything, sweetheart, just to see you like this.”

“You – you mentioned a bed,” James manages between breathy whimpers. “That sounds like a good idea.”

“Of course.” Jacques picks him up and leads him to his never-used bedroom. “Of course, sweetheart, of course.”

* * *

He doesn’t freak out about it until a few hours later.

James is sleeping soundly, head in Jacques’ pristine pillows, blankets and quilts pulled up to his bare shoulders. One arm is untucked, brushing Jacques’ hip where he sits beside him stroking James’ mussed hair.

“I told Mother I might be staying over,” James had mumbled after they had finished. “She looked at me disapprovingly but she was okay with it.” He had yawned when Jacques had tucked him in. “She thinks I have horrible taste in men, but she’s wrong this time, she’s wrong about you…”

Jacques silently sighs to himself. James’ mother is perceptive. And completely correct – she has good reason to disapprove of her son being with him.

“What in the actual Hell am I doing…” He wonders aloud to himself. Quiet as to not wake James. Like he _cares._ “I’m a motherfucking _demon_. Wrath Department, no less. What’s wrong with me?”

He brushes a bit of hair off James’ forehead. To his disgust, such a gesture is tender. Loving.

Jacques quietly curses some more. He stands and soothes the still-sleeping James, who mumbles and reaches for him. Goes out to the front porch. Still dark outside, though a few streaks of sunlight are starting to creep over the horizon. Slightly chilly despite it being late spring, almost the end of the semester.

“It’s just a fling,” he whispers to himself. “It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just that – that I haven’t been with anyone so nice in so long. He’s corrupting me. But it’s just a fling, it doesn’t mean anything.” He repeats that once more to try to convince himself.

He doesn’t believe it. But he tries.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” he repeats again, then looks at his clock. Very early morning, but late enough that the bakery might be open. Jacques doesn’t have any food, but James will need something for breakfast. He throws on his coat and shoes and goes out to fetch him something.

His stomach sinks as he’s coming home. That sort of thing isn’t something you do for someone you don’t give a shit about. He is a bad liar, especially to himself. He manages to rationalize it as simply physically taking care of a human. Humans are needy.

It doesn’t work, but he pretends like it’s a rational thing. He pretends that his heart doesn’t warm when James wakes up excited, smelling the fresh extravagant breakfast.

Jacques is in _trouble…_

* * *

“Who are you writing to?” Lucy suspiciously asks when she comes across Jacques writing a letter.

He covers up the paper. “A school associate. A classmate that asked about America.”

“Hm. I don’t believe you. I think my big mean brother made a _friend…”_

“And I think you’re a nosy bitch,” he retorts. “Fuck off.”

She leaves. Jacques continues writing the letter to James. He is in America for all of summer break visiting his sisters. They started in New York but were now travelling to more rural areas of the country. It’s helping Jacques’ stupid lovesickness – no, his crush. His infatuation. He’s just in it for the sex, really.

Which would _definitely_ explain why he sees fit to write a letter to James every two weeks. Because that is the definition of sex. Letters.

Jacques growls and balls up the letter, throwing it in the trash. A minute later he relents and retrieves it, smoothing out the wrinkles.

Summer break will be ending soon. Jacques might even return before James receives this letter. He’ll get to see James again, and then what? Jacques has a mind to send a scathing letter announcing that he’s had enough of James and is breaking up with him. But sweet James doesn’t deserve that. It would break his poor heart.

Perhaps Jacques will wait. Beginning of the semester is the easiest time to have a breakup, since the class schedule will be all different and they won’t have as many courses together. Jacques will pull him aside and break the awful news.

* * *

Jacques returns and does not break up with James.

Instead, he bestows upon him a half a suitcase of gifts from America, presents and souvenirs and little fancy trinkets. Books, too, from the finest booksellers in New York.

He’s an idiot. Now he has to wait until the end of this semester.

The end of the semester arrives. Jacques soothes James through what feels like endless panic attacks over exams. They both pass with flying colors. James because he’s a smart cookie and he studies like a madman, and Jacques because he _lived_ during the period of Ancient Studies.

Their relationship continues despite Jacques telling himself he’ll end it any day now.

* * *

This winter is the perfect time for Jacques to try out his newest creation. He’s been working on it for almost a year now and he thinks it might finally be ready.

He goes to the next town over so it won’t be as easily traced back to him.

It takes a week for the news to arrive to Bleston: there is a vampire epidemic in the country. It takes another two weeks for Vampire Winter, as people have started calling it, to hit Bleston.

Perfect. An absolute undeniable success. People are paranoid and fearful, staying indoors. The University tries to enact a stricter curfew: nobody out after dark.

The only downside is that James is scared too. Jacques tries to keep him at his side for protection, but James insists upon sleeping at his own house most nights, fearful for his mother. Jacques escorts him back home if they spend time late at Jacques’ house. He puts up rudimentary subtle protections around the house when James isn’t paying attention. Nothing strong enough to stop a vampire, but decent enough to deter one.

Vampire Winter gets worse. These new vampires are feral, uncontrollable, quick to turn whatever victims they can find. They kill more than they convert, which is unfortunate, but the ones who do survive are getting better at not killing people. Scarier that way.

Ironically, Jacques will learn just how frightening that is.

* * *

Jacques taps his foot impatiently.

James is late. James is _never_ late. He is obsessively early to everything.

What’s more, Jacques saw him about a half an hour ago. They had made plans to meet up at the library after lunch. Whenever they made such plans, James always flew through his lunch to hurry and meet Jacques.

Jacques gives it another five minutes before he begins to worry.

Something is wrong.

Sitting in the library by himself, Jacques makes sure that he’s in a discreet corner before getting some materials out of a secret compartment in his bag. Due to the current vampire crisis, he’d taken to keeping magical supplies on him at all times.

Scrying is not his strong suit. It takes him several tries to get a good “signal” on James. It helps that he has a lock of his fair hair, but the signal is muddled. Jacques can’t see what’s going on, but he gets an impression of fear.

Most importantly, he gets a location. A dorm on campus.

He runs out the library, pushing past other students in his rush. His stomach is churning. James is afraid. James is often afraid, but he is never late.

Jacques doesn’t have a key to the dorms, but he doesn’t need one when a foot to the door will work just as well. He jogs up the stairs, rummaging in the same secret spot in his bag for his knife. He can rely on magic and fists, but a knife might be a good backup.

While he’s fetching his knife, his fingers brush a wooden mallet and a few wooden stakes. His heart starts beating faster. His chest hurts. He hopes he won’t need them.

He doesn’t recognize the dorm room, but it has a similarly weak door.

Someone yells when he kicks it down. Jacques smells blood, sees candles and dim figures.

Two smaller figures and a larger one. None of them are James, but all three are vampires. Jacques growls and stabs a smaller one that lunges for him. Looking around wildly for James, for his James.

He ruthlessly stakes the other smaller vampire, kicking his now motionless victim to the floor.

The floor – there! James is curled up on the ground coughing. Hands tied around his back, eyes closed in pain.

Coughing up blood.

Oh holy shit, Jacques hopes against all hope that it’s just from an injury. But he sees bite marks on James. He sees bite marks on one of the vampires too.

He knows all too well how new vampires turn each other. One of them bites the victim. Then they force the victim to bite them and drink their blood. Jacques had designed it to be quick and easy.

Jacques screams and stakes the other small vampire, then turns to the bigger one. The leader. Something about him seems familiar – perhaps it’s his ridiculous mustache. He’s an old vampire, one of the original German ones.

“Well, what do we have here?” That vampire purrs. “Come to rescue your little mouse?”

“How fucking _dare you!”_ Jacques shrieks. Fury making him see red. “I don’t care who you are, you will _never_ dare set foot in this city again! I will tear you apart with my bare hands, I will twist your entrails into a pathetic knot, I will make you regret the day that you touched him!” He approaches with a stake. “You should have picked a different victim. Anybody else, motherfucker, _anybody_ else but him!”

The vampire backs off. He’s realized that Jacques’ not human. “Strong words for a crybaby,” he wryly notes. “Aw, was he a friend? He was a sweet one. A bit of a screamer, though. Like music to my ears…”

Jacques angrily wipes away a few tears. It’s not _fair…_

He goes on the attack. The vampire only takes a few hits before it flees. Jacques wants to chase after it, but he has greater concerns.

“James, James,” he kneels and cradles James’ head. Starts hacking at the ropes restraining him, careful even in his haste not to cut him. “No, no please, this – this isn’t fair…”

James coughs and sputters, more blood leaking out of the corner of his mouth. He has two sharp fangs and even paler skin. “J-Jacques?”

“Yeah, I – I’ve got you, I’m here, it’s okay-” Jacques’ voice breaks. It’s not okay. It’s awful and it wasn’t supposed to happen and it’s all Jacques’ fault. _I did this to you,_ he wants to confess. _Karma has finally caught up to me, but it took you instead._

Jacques finishes untying James. He scoops him up and rushes him downstairs.

James seems confused, dazed. He rests his head on Jacques’ shoulder and sobs.

“We’re going home,” Jacques soothes. “I’m taking you to my house, I – I have things that may be able to help, I’ll keep you safe darling, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!”

James just cries even harder, burying his face in Jacques’ neck. A moment later he feels a sharp prick. Jacques stumbles and winces but keeps going. Despite his supernatural resistance, it still hurts. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he reassures James. “Do what you need to do, sweetheart, it’ll be okay.”

He gets home and gets James to the bathroom. There are a few small wounds on him, likely from trying to resist his vampiric captors. Jacques tends to them as well as the small bite on James’ neck. Then he gets him into a nice hot bath.

James is still inconsolable, nearly hysterical with panic.

He remains like this for nearly a week. Jacques contacts his mother and tells her that James is very ill and wants to stay away for her safety. He lets the university know too, bullying the more stubborn teachers into giving James extensions on important papers and projects.

Jacques is reluctant to let James out of his sight, but he’s also burning up inside. Wracked with guilt. He goes on a vampire-killing spree for a few nights, racking up a body count that would put even his sisters to shame.

It doesn’t help. Nothing helps. Knowing that Jacques _did_ this, even indirectly. It’s still his fault and he will never forgive himself.

* * *

“I got you a present,” Jacques sing-songs.

“Oh?” James brightens. He’d confined himself to Jacques’ bedroom until he felt like he could control his vampiric hunger. “May I see?”

“Nope. Close your eyes, darling.”

James closes his eyes and holds out his hands. Jacques takes them and sits on the bed in his lap, putting James’ hands on his waist. He pecks James on the cheek then moves down to kiss his jawline, his chin. Avoiding his neck until he feels like it won’t give James a panic.

“Is this your gift mmph-”

Jacques pulls back from the kiss. “No, silly. I got you a book.”

“Oh, thank you!” James eagerly takes it. During his house confinement, he’d gone through every book in Jacques’ scarce library. “Thank you, dear. For everything.” He gets quieter, more upset again. “Thank you, Jacques. I – I’m a monster now and you – you’re still taking such good care of me.”

“I’m happy to do it.” Jacques cuddles him. “You’re not a monster to me. You’re my sweet James and nothing, not even vampirism, will _ever_ change that.” He also quiets. “I – I love you, James.”

The first time he’s admitted it, even to himself.

James smiles. It’s been too long since he’s smiled like that. Jacques would do _anything_ to make him happy like that. “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> You know that one meme of the girl who liked another girl in her class but she was confused by her crush, so she gave her a note that just said "get out of my school"? Yeah that is Jacques for like the first half of this.


End file.
